


careful(l)

by GoandSeek



Series: Haikyuu First Responders [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: EMT Hanamaki Takahiro, EMT Iwaizumi Hajime, First Responders - Freeform, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Pro Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Short Story, Waiter Matsukawa Issei, physical therapist miya atsumu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoandSeek/pseuds/GoandSeek
Summary: Ah, I don't have a good summary yet! Here's the run-down:Oikawa Tooru is a pro volleyball player who has no concept of taking care of himself. Iwaizumi is an overworked EMT/bouncer (ye, two jobs) who can teach Shittykawa just how to love himself the way he deserves.Also fake relationships, but not for long.I promise I'll update this with a better summary when I can.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Hinata Shoyo/Kageyama Tobio
Series: Haikyuu First Responders [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918789
Kudos: 2





	careful(l)

OIKAWA TOORU WAS NOT IN A GOOD MOOD. Kageyama Tobio, the idiot, was collapsed over his shoulder like some sort of limp starfish, limbs askew and barely coherent enough to stand the man up by himself. Oikawa begrudgingly bore the brunt of Kageyama’s weight, cursing the man’s muscular physique for his _heftiness_ and lugging him out of the taxi with a sheepish smile. A generous tip and bright smile later, Oikawa stood with his drunken teammate before a collection of apartments that looked decidedly ratty and not very _Olympic-sportsman-hosting._

In fact, Oikawa was pretty sure he’d seen these same apartments on the news for a drug-bust a month ago. 

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa jolted Kageyama up violently, not particularly caring for the fright he caused, “Are you sure this is your apartment?”

“Not mine,” Kageyama yawned, raising one hand like it was made of lead before rubbing at his eyes, “My friend’s.”

“You have friends?” Oikawa snorted, dragging Kageyama up the stairs as best he could. His knee creaked in protest, his old injury acting up as Kageyama made little-to-no contribution in helping lift himself up the two flights to his _friend’s_ apartment. Oikawa wasn’t sure how he’d gotten stuck babysitting Kageyama, but he was sure it was a job he would _not_ be taking ever again. _Ushijima can deal with this baby next time._ The tight-lipped bastard had simply drank a single milkshake and left the party without so much as a ‘goodnight’. _He has no social aptitude whatsoever._

Neither did Kageyama if Oikawa was being honest. The man stunk of alcohol, skin feverish and sweaty where it was exposed to the placid twilight temperatures. 

_So what?_ They’d gotten silver at the Olympics. Yes, Oikawa was bummed just as well, but he wouldn’t cope by drinking himself to death like a familiar, heavy idiot.

No, he would cope by watching every match he’d ever been in and criticize every small detail. Then, he’d accumulate the anger at losing, manifest it into guilt, and pile it entirely onto his own shoulders. 

This was a routine Oikawa was all-too-familiar with. 

“That one— _no_ , wait, yes. Yes?”

Kageyama blubbered, pointing at the floor, completely useless as Oikawa knocked on the door that had been registered on Kageyama’s phone as his house. Thankfully, their silver-medal celebration (Oikawa knew full well that it was a pity-party) had been hosted in Sendai (courtesy of one of their Olympic sponsors), not Tokyo, so the trip to Aoba-Johsai was short and sweet. Kageyama was a grumbling, stumbling drunk, but he wasn’t prone to vomiting so Oikawa had just about managed to not drop him off on the curb and get into the taxi alone and mostly-sober. 

The door eased open until the chain on the inside caught. A pair of green eyes blearily peeked through, angry and squinted. 

Oikawa grinned as best he could, his smile rivaling those he used for the magazines, before hefting Kageyama up higher onto his shoulder as the man began to melt into the floor in an alcohol-induced puddle. _Never again, Tobio-chan._

“Hello!” Oikawa started, quieting as the door fully opened and the man, once revealed, scowled at him heavily, eyes bloodshot. 

“Sorry to bother you, I—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The man rubbed his face before scratching at his bare chest. Oikawa sneaked a peek, pleasantly surprised by the man’s wide shoulders and defined stomach. It wasn’t often he caught athletic people outside of the business he was in. _Does he play a sport?_ The man’s firm pecs almost distracted Oikawa from the unpleasant look on his face. 

“Here, I’ll take him.”

The man reached forward, yanking on Kageyama until the drunken man flew forward and toddled past the doorway, blindly searching for something as he entered the depths of the apartment. 

“Iwaizumi-san, right?” Oikawa guessed, trying to recall what Kageyama had listed his emergency contact as right above the address for this set of apartments. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” Iwaizumi responded, yawning big before rubbing down his chest as the wind stole by quietly in the night. 

Oikawa waited patiently for it to strike the man that _Oikawa Tooru_ was on his doorstep. Most people gasped and asked for autographs. Oikawa didn’t mind autographs, and he would very willingly give Iwaizumi one, but only after an apology because the man wasn’t being very pleasant. The aforementioned man yawned once more before turning to Oikawa, gaze steely even with all the layers of sleep. 

“What? You need something?”

_Maybe he’s not a volleyball fan._ The idea stunned Oikawa because Kageyama had declared Iwaizumi a friend, but he figured he could introduce himself. Probability indicated that Iwaizumi had, in fact, _heard_ of Oikawa, even if he couldn’t identify him on sight. _I probably look a little rough too._ Oikawa had drank a little bit and alcohol always made his face turn red and blotchy, hence why he avoided it like the plague most times. 

“ _I’m Oikawa Toor_ —”

“—How much I owe you?”

“Excuse me?”

Oikawa blinked at the small wad of cash in Iwaizumi’s fist, held out in front of Oikawa’s navel like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m not— I don’t—That’s— _wait,_ ” Oikawa’s jaw dropped as he counted the measly bills presented to him, “That’s nothing!”

“ _Nothing_ is all I got right now,” Iwaizumi withdrew his hand with a shrug, “but if _nothing_ isn’t good enough for you, I got _nothing_ else for you so scram.”

_The pettiness,_ Oikawa blinked, _it could rival mine._

“Goodnight,” The man motioned to close the door, eyebrows raised as Oikawa frowned heavily. 

_Not even a thank you?_ Oikawa stood standstill, mouth working over muted noise as he gaped, offended and angry at the shorter man taking up most of the doorway. The wind stole by once more and the man inched behind the door, closing it slowly as he peeked around the corner to Oikawa, still standing on the landing, hands clenched at his sides and nose scrunched in annoyance. 

“ _I’m Oikawa Tooru!”_

Oikawa was aware his voice was entirely too loud for three in the morning, but he let the words hang in the air menacingly. With bated breath, he waited for the realization to hit Iwaizumi like a bullet train, waited for the man to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. _Or at least ask for a fucking autograph._

“Right,” Iwaizumi sounded, peeking around the door once more, “Good for you, Akawawa-san. Thanks for bringing him home. Goodnight. Stay safe.”

The door closed. _Akawawa?_

“At least he said thank you,” Oikawa reasoned to himself, oddly tempted to knock again and weasel his way past Iwaizumi. _Maybe he could play dead?_ Just to prove a point, of course. He wasn’t absolutely sure what the point was, but he was damn sure he’d prove it. 

Right before Oikawa could list his hand to knock the door swung open again making for a very awkward pose that made Oikawa feel like he was about to rap against Iwaizumi’s skull with his knuckles. 

“Kageyama just told me you’re one of his teammates,” Iwaizumi sighed, “And you’re not a creep—”

“—Excuse me?”

Iwaizumi blinked slowly like he was waiting for Oikawa to catch up on his obvious train of thought. 

“Since you’re apparently not a creep, you can crash on the couch if you’d like.”

The door opened wider and Oikawa caught a glimpse of a small living room with an even smaller couch. He eyed Iwaizumi’s shorter stature and then looked at his own feet, which seemed miles away in comparison. 

“I don’t think I’ll fit on it.”

“True enough,” Iwaizumi appraised Oikawa before nodding, looking at him, the couch, and then back. 

“Goodnight.”

Oikawa stuck his toe in the doorway, wincing when it closed on him and then smiling just as quickly when Iwaizumi opened it, looking further and further annoyed. 

“What?”

“On second thought, I think I can fit.”

“I don’t think you can.”

The door began to shut again, this time stopped by both Oikawa’s feet and one of his hands. 

“Fine, fine,” Iwaizumi scowled, yanking the door open and gesturing to the couch dramatically, “Have fun with that jerk”

“The couch can’t be _that_ ba—”

“I wasn’t talking about the couch.”

Oikawa shut up, quietly wishing Iwaizumi a good rest (which was answered with a short laugh) and exiting the apartment. Oikawa liked annoying people occasionally, sure, but not strangers. _Jerk?_ Oikawa wasn’t a jerk. Oikawa didn’t want Iwaizumi to think he was a jerk. 

Oikawa lay on the couch for a grand total of three seconds before realizing he _really_ could not fit. It was cold too, the scrappy cloth-covered furniture doing little to warm him. 

He shut the door behind him as softly as he could, making a few paces down the hallway before the familiar sound of something easing open made him turn around. 

Iwaizumi walked past the doorway, a bundle of cloth in his hand. 

“Sorry, it’s a shitty couch” He muttered, gruffly, “You can have this if you want. It’s cold. You need money to get home?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

Oikawa accepted the blanket, holding it close to his chest and blinking at the back of the prickly man as he retreated into the apartment. The door shut behind him and then locked. 

Oikawa pulled the blanket around him, pleased to find it freshly laundered and smelling like detergent. It seemed warm too. 

Oikawa began his walk to his apartment figuring that, now with a blanket, the night didn’t seem as cold anymore. 

“Man, what a jerk.”

➳➴➵➶

IWAIZUMI HAJIME WAS NOT IN A GOOD MOOD. The club he worked at, Club Kubo, had always been notoriously understaffed (especially with bouncers), but Iwiauzmi had never guessed that he’d be forced to work a shift in a completely different city. Granted, there was no _forcing,_ and Iwaizumi had been offered compensation via a hefty bonus _but still._ The train to Tokyo from Sendai was bearable most days, but on the day Iwaizumi had to head to Club Kubo’s Tokyo branch two different salarymen had chosen to generously offer Iwaizumi some beer and spill it down the front of his freshly laundered uniform— thankfully, only the coat of his suit was messed up and it wasn’t ruined. 

Still, Iwaizumi wasn’t thrilled with how the night had kicked off. 

“Why’s your jacket covered in beer?”

“Long story,” Iwaizumi gruffly tossed his bag onto the bench, opening the empty locker with more force than necessary. 

Yahaba Shigeru stared at him, unimpressed, from the locker three-down. Kyoutani Kentaro was due to show up as well, the three of them normally stationed at Club Kubo’s branch in Aoba-Johsai and the three of them easily swayed by the promise of a bonus if they’d cover tonights’ shift in Tokyo for a _VIP_ group. 

“Here,” Yahaba threw Iwaizumi something and the grumpy man caught it, staring down at the stain-remover pen with skepticism. 

“You think it’ll work?”

Yahaba just shrugged in response, “It’s worked for me before. Usually, small stains though, not whatever the fuck you have on your jacket.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Iwaizumi sighed, eyeing the tiny pen and then the large splash of dark, _pungent_ wetness splotching over the front of his jacket. He threw the pen back to Yahaba after a second of deliberation, deciding, with reluctance, that he’d spend whatever little bonus he got from tonight on getting his whole suit cleaned. _Worth it, in the long run, I guess._

“How’s the EMT thing going for you?” Yahaba yawned, stretching abruptly before eyeing the entrance judgmentally, his mind counting the seconds as Kyoutani slowly began to run late. 

“Fine,” Iwaizumi frowned, not one for small talk, “How’s nursing school?”

“Eh, it’s alright— _oh._ That’s Kentaro’s walk. I know it when I hear it. Wait until that bastard gets here. He’s two minutes late.”

Ignoring Yahaba’s angry monologue, Iwaizumi shoved his overnight bag into the locker alongside the small card detailing the motel he’d been told to stay at. The trains didn’t run past a certain point and catching a cab from Tokyo to Sendai would cost a chunk of a month’s rent, so a cheap motel was the best of Iwaizumi’s options at the time being. He wasn’t looking forward to the sleepless night ahead, but the little money that beckoned him forth was too convincing to ignore. 

“Hey, look who finally showed up.”

Iwaizumi turned at the sound of Yahaba’s scoffing laugh, straightening his tie glumly when he only saw Kyoutani shuffling into the staff locker room. The man’s eyes were rimmed dark with lack of sleep, his hair, though shaved, disheveled. 

Kyoutani only glared back at Yahaba pointedly and Iwaizumi sighed again, turning to his locker because he really didn’t feel like dealing with their shit. 

“—late. You have to start showing up early. On-time is late too, got it?”

Iwaizumi tuned out Yahaba’s lecture, nodding at Kyoutani in minute acknowledgment as he headed for the door. The _VIP_ party was technically due to start in two hours, but the Club had been fully rented out for the event and all on-duty staff had been called in to help set up for the event. Iwaizumi knew it had something to do with the Olympic Team, getting a little bit of information out of Kageyama before he’d been whisked off for a _date_ with his boyfriend. Kageyama’s boyfriend wasn’t a stranger to Iwaizumi— the two _kind of_ knew each other from prefecture-wide calls and seminars hosted for both EMTs and Firemen. Even so, Iwaizumi liked the kid. He was loud, a touch annoying, but he had a good heart and he was good for Kageyama in the way the couples on the TV Iwaizumi’s mother watched were. _Kinda opposite, kinda not, and kinda really good for each other._

“Here comes the muscle!” The club manager laughed, clapping Iwaizumi on the back a little too hard, “Iwaizumi, right? Why don’t you help move those tables over there.”

Two hours went by quickly to make space for an agonizingly slow shift of just watching the Olympic Men’s Volleyball Team and their _plus-ones_ rubbing elbows, eating good food, and having a good drink. Iwaizumi could feel a few eyes on him occasionally, knowing full-well that he stood out without his jacket compared to the rest of the bouncers (who all lined the walls and watched the windows and doors like hawks). 

“Hey, Iwaizumi,” Yahaba whispered, hands fiddling, bored. 

Iwaizumi grunted in response, hands neatly clasped behind his back as he focused loosely on the scene in front of him. The stars of the night seemed to be Kageyama and Hinata, their antics loud enough to buy a few laughs even from some of the waiting staff. One server had managed to weasel close enough to them to snag bits of their conversation, blissfully unaware (as were most) that Hinata and Kageyama were in fact, _romantically_ involved. 

“You know Kageyama Tobio right? Like, he follows you on Instagram and stuff.”

“I deleted that app a while ago,” Iwaizumi rolled his shoulders out, cracking his neck. 

“You know that doesn’t delete your account right? _Anyway_ —”

The two of them paused at a particularly loud swell in the laughter of the club. Iwaizumi chuckled at the sight of Kageyama’s face flushed obnoxiously pink. Hinata giggled merrily next to him having just pressed an undeniably sloppy kiss to the man’s cheek. _I’m glad they’re happy,_ Iwaizumi pressed his smile down flat, rolling his eyes when it still sailed over several people’s heads that Kageyama and Hinata were in fact _gay_ -ly involved. 

Granted, Kageyama had told Iwaizumi that the PR Team wanted his and Hinata’s relationship under wraps for the moment, concerned that Kageyama wouldn’t be able to handle the burden of becoming an LGBT+ spokesperson and role model. They were right, honestly. Kageyama would never be able to compute anything as well as volleyball and his socialization skills were abysmal at best. _It still sucks that they have to keep it a secret._

Though, they weren’t doing a good job of it. 

“—Tooru?"

“Huh?” Iwaizumi jolted at Yahaba’s nudge, apologizing for not listening before following the man’s subtle point to a table far off to the side of the main group. 

“Since you know Kageyama Tobio, do you know Oikawa Tooru?”

“Oikawa Tooru?” Iwaizumi rolled the name around in his mouth, a sudden laugh coming to him when he placed where exactly he’d heard the name before. 

“Yeah, yes, I have,” Iwaizumi snorted, covering his mouth at the sight of the familiar man’s hair, even the back of his head vaguely recognizable. 

“Kageyama brought him over a few times to review plays,” Iwaizumi explained, trying to suppress the humorous memory interlocked with Oikawa’s name, “weird that he’s not over there, joking with everyone.”

“Super weird,” Yahaba echoed, arms crossing, “I’m like, a semi-fan—”

—Iwaizumi knew that meant Yahaba had most definitely stalked Oikawa for a solid three months _at least_ —

“—and he’s usually always the one in the center, making the jokes and stuff.”

_Hmm._ Iwaizumi chewed on the inside of his cheek, the strangeness of the situation finally hitting him. It was true, Oikawa was usually always the center of attention at events like these. Well, he was usually the center of attention _period_ (Iwaizumi hadn't been big on gossip magazines but the _incident_ had led him to some amusing articles). Why he was off to the corner, slumped like a drunkard was mildly concerning. 

“My shift’s almost done,” Iwaizumi sighed, “I can check up on him.”

“Can you get an autograph for me?” Yahaba whispered, in poorly-concealed awe.

“Please?”

Iwaizumi supposed Oikawa was the type to like giving autographs out. _Maybe it’ll cheer him up._

“Sure. Alright.”

“The next shift is here,” Kyoutani popped out of seemingly nowhere, gruffly staring past Iwaizumi’s shoulder and into Yahaba’s soul. Iwaizumi smiled, nodded, and then exited the sexually charged staredown as fast as he could because he had better things to do. 

_Like cheer up Oikawa Tooru._

As he neared the brown-haired man’s table, he caught the flat stare of Ushijima Wakatoshi, another member of the Olympic Team. The man blinked at him, eyes flitting at Oikawa and then to his phone.Iwaizumi grinned big, sidling up to Oikawa and peering down at the familiar head of hair, the man's face currently mashed into the sticky hardwood of the table. 

“Everything alright, here?”

“I’m alright,” Ushijima nodded, gesturing to Oikawa loosely, “Oikawa is having an existential cris—”

“—I am completely _a-okay_ , sir,” Oikawa looked up from the table, his smile so bright it made Iwaizumi physically flinch at the strain in the man’s cheek muscles. 

“I’m sorry to bother—you?!”

“Hello, Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi tried his best to ignore the little joyous spark in his chest when Oikawa's eyes widened in recognition (and then he slammed his head into the table like a drama queen). 

_Let’s get him home. Let’s get him happy._

_And don’t forget Yahaba’s autograph._

Iwaizumi contemplated charging Kageyama for hogging his teammate's limelight because Iwaizumi had never been big on babysitting grown men.

________________________________________________________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for joining me on the IwaOi installation of this Haikyuu First Responder series! Our first responder for this short story will be Iwaizumi who is an EMT. I have much more actual experience being an EMT so this will hopefully be more accurate than the KageHina firefighter story. You will not need to read the KageHina story to understand this one (though it may help? I will be referencing them a lot). 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and I hope you all enjoy these little stories!


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